Silky secrets bleed from open sores, tracked across my skin. Metalic juice drips onto ghost hands composted of latex and talc. Victim looks as tthough suffered mental distress, suicide, waiting impatiently on the floor in Sunday's dress. "My dear friend Jesus," she wrote, "I've come to take your place, get off my cross." When love's gravest controversy arrived, they were 10 seconds to late. Snow princess impressed the concrete and produced mortar angels, crying acid cracks, collapsing their faces. Cloudy stones replaced my diamond eyes, and worthless words melted lonely in my dead palms. Athiest tears dissolve the mediocrity in simple death, and even Mephistopheles took a bow to my creativity. Nestling quietly in my own underworld, I delivered a queen urchin for all to believe, allowance to decieve. Chaos kisses my lips, my prince of darkness has arrived, had you felt sick and deprived? I didn't expect you so soon. Sit and hold my claws in the night, when convienently enough, the stars stared falling from the sky, slicing my body, waiting for my next lie. The heavens consumed my remains, and licked the wounds of Romeo's pain. Covetous creature carries bouquets of thorns, that stab perfectly though each of my curious thoughts. Spasmodic gestures flinch, and my eyes crash tightly together, how I wish for my deranged head to be sevvered.